


The Bleeding Knees Club

by himjongs



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Genderbending, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-01-08 17:29:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/himjongs/pseuds/himjongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three girls, Himchan, Youngjae and Junhong, experience life, love and drugs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Junnie

If this isn't living, I don't know what is. Lying on Youngjae's bed, I let my head roll over and hang off the edge to add a rush to what is left of my high. Coke always wears off too quickly for my liking.

"I hate my life," Himchan screeches. "I'm gonna kill myself!"

I instantly cringe at her shrill voice and turn myself upright to see her leaning over Youngjae's balcony. Her waist-length black hair has somehow become tangled and thick black eyeliner is running down her cheeks. She snorted more than she can handle, again. I roll my eyes and lie back down, this time using Youngjae’s leg as a pillow. I prefer to spend my last minutes away from home ignoring the girl screaming herself hoarse. 

"Shut the fuck up and get the fuck off my balcony before someone calls the cops," Youngjae shouts and throws a black pump at her. “Last time I cop that shit for you bitches.” 

Himchan sobs harder, falling to her knees. “I’m sick of it. I’m sick of everything. I want to die.”

“Whatever, go ahead then. You’re annoying,” Youngjae mumbles around her third cigarette, going back to thumbing through the latest GQ magazine. She flips the pages with so much force, my left eye twitches with each turn. “What the fuck ever, these guys aren’t even remotely good looking.” She throws the magazine on the floor and goes to close the sliding door to block out Himchan’s sobs. 

When she comes back, I sit up and take the cigarette from her mouth and put it in my own. “Junnie from the block,” she says, ruffling my fading blonde hair. 

I snort and stand to straighten out my cream and black kitten sweater, "I should get home."

"Yeah, you better," she agrees. 

“She staying over?” I nod toward Himchan.

Youngjae toes off her socks then reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra, “Yeah, I guess.” 

I throw one last glance at Himchan curled up on the balcony floor. Youngjae props as many pillows as she can behind herself. “She’ll be fine.”

 

I end up walking the thirteen blocks between mine and Youngjae’s house. It could be considered a long walk, but between a full day at Valley Brook Christian Academy and what may lie ahead at home, it isn't far enough. The more alone time I get, the better. The bus would be packed with sweaty men and I’d end up having to give my seat to an old woman armed with groceries anyway. The sun is close to setting, so I think twice about putting my headphones on. My mother always warns me to keep them off, lest I be run down by a car or ambushed from behind. Just to spite her, I search my bag for a cigarette to light up and put them on anyway. 

I used to think the world of my mom. When I was a kid I thought she was the smartest woman on the planet. She taught me to paint and sew. Told me I could be anything I wanted to be. But how can I do that when I have no idea who I am? I can’t believe anything she ever told me. It was all a lie. Three months ago I found out I was adopted.

I slip inside the back door, which is almost never locked, and have a look around. My parents are nowhere in sight. I silently thank the plaque of Jesus that hangs at the front of Valley Brook Church. That statue is the only god I’ve ever known since I was seven. I creep into the kitchen, steal a cupcake from the cake-stand, then hurry up the stairs.

Once I make it to my room, my black cat, Billy wraps himself around my leg. I smile and crouch down to pick him up. "Hey, Billy," I coo. He’s named after Billy Corgan, front man of the sickest band ever. He has a white patch over his right eye, the cat I mean. My dad insisted I name him Patches when I got him, but even at ten that was too corny for me.

Posters of dirty boys in bands cover the walls in my room where track trophies and perfect attendance certificates awarded to Junhong Choi used to be, whoever the hell she is. I glance at my laptop on my desk and run my fingers over it, wondering if I should spend another night on Facebook browsing names and searching for people that look like me. 

I end up picking out clothes for my date with Yongguk tomorrow. Well it’s not really a date, meeting up on the lawn at Cal State Northridge to exchange music. I hold an oversized white knitted sweater and a mid thigh pleated skirt to my chest and waist, then turn to Billy. "Do you think Yongguk will like this?" Billy ducks his head and rolls onto his belly. “You’re right. It needs to be shorter.” I sit down at my sewing machine and rip the stitches from the skirt. 

 

The next morning, I get up extra early with waffles on my mind. After a short hot shower, I pull on the skirt I fashioned and neatly fold my school uniform in my bag. I shove my earbuds in, turn my iPod up and creep down the stairs. When my waffles are warm and drenched in syrup, I dig in and close my eyes. There is nothing like Bach in the morning. I slowly nod my head with the music, turning it up louder to block out the crunchy waffles between my teeth. I can feel my mother’s presence when she comes into the room, so I shut my eyes tighter; hum to myself and tap my fork on the table, licking the sweet syrup from my lips. 

Cold air hits my ear. I open my eyes to meet those of an angry mother. Somebody's mother. Not mine. "I'm talking to you," the woman says, inches away from my face. I roll my eyes and pull the second earplug out. "Cover your stomach,” she says. “You're too young to be dressing like that." I roll my eyes again and get up from the table, grab my bag from the floor and sling it over my shoulder. “Did you hear what I said?” She narrows her eyes and puts a hand on her hip. 

I shrug and head for the door. "I'm almost eighteen."

"That's right. Almost,” she deadpans. “Meaning not yet."

"You're not my mom," I say plainly staring the woman in the eye. I dare her to say otherwise.

She can't hold my dead gaze. She never can. She quiets down and looks away. I wrench the door open and walk out, making sure to slam it behind me.

 

People say I smile a lot. I can’t really say it’s true, but sometimes I can feel my cheeks tighten up or my lips stretch out further than what’s comfortable. But it’s not really me. I’m not happy. It's a defense mechanism. I don’t care a great deal if people like me or not. I just don’t need any of the drama that comes with people disliking me. So I smile. Doesn’t help that I tower over more than half the pussy nerds in the school. A six foot tall blonde Asian girl strolling through the halls. Girls hate that shit, and even more than that, boys hate being around a girl that can see right over his head. 

I head straight to the abandoned bathroom at Valley Brook before the bell. People steer clear of it because they think it’s haunted, but that isn’t true. I think it was Himchan that started the rumor last year so that we could have it to ourselves. Youngjae is already there checking her makeup in the mirror. 

“Yo.” I hop onto the bathroom counter. 

“Nice skirt,” Youngjae says separating her eyelashes, adding more mascara than they can probably handle. “I can see your cunt from here.” I snort and cross my legs. “Eww. Speaking of snorting,” she says and rips a spike from her bracelet. She tips it on her pinky and white powder piles out. I lean in and sniff sharply when she holds it up to my face. 

“Ahhh,” I lean back and the cold mirror sends a shiver down my bare back. I close my eyes for a second, waiting for the rush to set in.

“Rough morning?” she asks with a smirk.

I shake my head, a huge smile on my lips. “Nope.”

Youngjae laughs and slaps my thigh. “Get changed and get to class, jerk.”

“Hmm. Gimme a ride to Yongguk’s after school.”

 

Calculus is my first class, imagine that. Who the hell would like to skip to calculus first thing in the morning? If I was actually smart like my parents think I am, I would have purposely failed algebra multiple times to lessen my workload. I take my seat next to ‘Know It All Namjoon’, who is always early to class.

“Good morning, Junhong,” he says softly, pushes his thin framed glasses up his nose and straightens one of the three pencils on his desk. Same as every morning. I think he struggles with OCD because I can’t imagine why he’d want to wish me a well morning after Youngjae kneed him in the nuts on my behalf.

“Morning,” I chirp, suddenly feeling more mentally alert than when I arrived at school. I lick my numb lips and anxiously await the daily timed test to be passed back to me. I feel like I can finish it in thirty seconds this morning. 

I meet Youngjae in the bathroom during lunch. She lights a cigarette, and I stand on the sinks to push the single rusty window with all my strength until it creaks open. She’s been unusually quiet since the school year started and only seems to find refuge in room 304. Her English class. I watch her blow smoke with a far away look in her eyes and crouch down on the sink, my elbows on my knees. 

“Are you sleeping with Mr. Song?” I ask.

She takes another long drag of her cigarette, passes it to me and crosses her arms. “Don’t say stupid things in the middle of the day.” 

“Just asking.”

“Well I’m not Himchan.”

“Didn’t say you were. Would you sleep with him?”

“How is the search for your biological parents going?” She easily changes the subject.

I look at her pretty sullen face across the bathroom. “Not good. They won’t tell me shit.”

“Hmm, I wish I could be of some assistance.”

“It’s fine. With my luck, they probably hate me anyway. Or they’re dead.”

“Don’t say that.”

 

After school, Youngjae drops me off at the bus stop in her black Infiniti. From there I take the twenty minute bus ride to Yongguk’s university. I make my way through hoards of students, with whom I actually blend in quite well. Or, at least the ones that have enough dignity to dress themselves in better than the school hoodie and a hair tie. Yongguk is waiting at our usual meeting place, a grassy area under an old oak tree. I wave and make sure my pin straight blonde hair sways behind me. Guys love that shit. They feel like it is something out of a movie. He stands up when I am a couple of feet away and checks his watch. 

“Hello miss. Glad you could make it.” He smiles. “You’re only ten minutes late this time.”

I blush and bite my lip, before getting myself together and lifting my head high. “If you want me to be on time, pick me up.” I raised an eyebrow and Yongguk shakes his head with a smile. He sits down again and pats the spot next to him. I sit next to him and dramatically scoot closer with a devilish smile. 

Yongguk laughs. “Comfortable?” 

“Mhmm,” I nod.

He leans in, nose barely ghosting over my ear until his lips reach the cartilage. I brave the chill that runs up my spine like a pro. “What do you have for me today?” he asks lowly trying to mask the teasing in his voice. I turn my head slightly, smirk and elbow him away.

I dig around in my bag and pull out my cd player. Yongguk throws his head back and laughs. “You have to be the only person in the world that still owns a cd player.”

“Be happy I didn’t bring cassette tapes.” I shuffle through a few cds before selecting one to shove inside the player. "If this shit doesn't bring tears to your eyes, you're dead inside." I hand the headphones to Yongguk and wait for his reaction. His eyes shift around while he takes in the music. He bobs his head a little before looking back at me and nodding his approval. 

“It’s good,” he says louder than necessary. I grin triumphantly shoving a fist in the air. Yongguk picks up the cd case to have a look at it. “Janis Joplin?”

“Yeah,” I push one of the phones back from his hear. “It’s dark and heavy, like me. You should hear it on vinyl.”

Yongguk smiles coyly. “Is that an invitation?”

“Maybe,” I say back.

Yongguk shakes his head at me, like always. Like I’m just a little girl and he is some great ancient turtle that has hundreds of years of knowledge on my three years of high school. We sit, listen to and discuss music for some time. The same way we do each time Yongguk has time to meet me. He checks his watch and says he has to get to class. I collect my things and look to him for a goodbye. A real one like in the 80s movies when the hot popular guy likes the Plain Jane for no good reason. Except I’m fabulous and he should be eating from the palm of my hand. “See you later, Juneberry.”

I roll my eyes, never too found of nicknames aside from Junnie, my fake dad gave me that. Juneberry isn’t all that great even if it is something Yongguk himself coined after a fruit he learned about in botany. He leans in as if he is going to kiss me, only to stumble forward and wrap his arms around me. I melt a little, letting down my defenses. Yongguk pulls back all too soon and nods into the direction of the bus stop. I purse my lip and punch him in the shoulder before turning on my heel. Unfortunately, work is calling. 

 

I’ve gotten high more times than I can count before I’ve even had my first kiss. I’d be a lying whore if I said I didn’t want Yongguk to be my first kiss. But he won’t be. I know it’s because he is a freshman in college and he doesn’t want to have a girlfriend- let alone a sixteen year old girlfriend. And it’s not because any of the moral bullshit people try to convince me of. Yongguk has fucked a lot of girls. I know it. 

I walk behind the counter at the brightly painted donut shop where I work and put my things away. Taehyung, my co worker greets me with his trademark stink face. 

“What?” I straighten up to hear the comment I know Taehyung is dying to make. 

“Look at you showing up dressed like a skank,” he scrunches his nose playfully. “Cute skirt. Did you make it?”

“I did,” I spin and curtsey.

“Make me one,” Taehyung mock begs.

“No.” I poke my tongue out at him and help him fill the freezer with beverages.

Before I can sell a jelly-filled anything with sprinkles on top, Himchan and Youngjae waltz in like they own the place. Well, technically Youngjae kind of does. Her family has a chain of donut shops. “Let’s go, kid,” Himchan shouts, slamming her leather purse on the counter.

“Where to?” I turn to face them.

“A little get together,” Youngjae replies cooly.

“Daehyun’s hosting it,” Himchan leans over the counter with a grin. Youngjae rolls her eyes and crosses her arms at the mention of Daehyun’s name.

“Hold up,” Taehyung lifts up a finger. “One, she just got here and for two, why don’t I know about this?”

“One, because you’re lame. And two, because you suck,” Himchan points a manicured nail at him.

Taehyung smiles warmly at her. “I’m sure I could never suck as much as you. Not even if I tried.”

Himchan slaps him on the head without missing a beat.

“Eonni,” I gasp and rub Taehyung’s head while laughing.

 

Himchan runs her fingers through her hair, putting it up into a high ponytail. I like it like that, shows off her high cheekbones. Although she’s got a couple screws loose, she is genuinely one of my favorite people in the world. From her striking good looks to her intense mood swings. She’s so interesting to me. I like to call her Gorgeous Depressive. 

“Eonni, you’re so pretty,” I muse. She's skinny. And I don't mean cigarette for breakfast skinny, but she's getting there.

“Maybe I should model,” she grins at her reflection in Youngjae’s bathroom mirror. 

Youngjae’s brother Seokjin is leaned up against the frame with his arms crossed. He snorts at Himchan and rolls his eyes, ”Yeah, you’ve already got the coke addiction.”

“Why are you even in here? Choke on one,” Himchan sneers back at him. Seokjin sends her a dark look before leaving the room. Himchan smiles triumphantly and yanks a handful of my hair. “Let me curl your hair.”

“Ugh no,” I back away.

“C’mon. Bang likes it like that,” Himchan grins.

“So what?”

“So, I know you want him all up in that, digging you out, so sit.” Himchan pushes me onto the stool and I duck my head to hide my warm face behind my bangs.

“It’s not like that,” I say softly. “I don’t think he wants to be anywhere near this.”

“What are you talking about? I thought you said he was into you for sure.”

“I don’t know.” I sigh. “I thought he was into me, but I think he just sees me as some sort of... music buddy.”

“Uh oh,” Himchan sings. “That won’t do.” She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. She looks at me in the mirror and holds her head high. “Tonight we’ll show him for sure.”

“Show him what?” I peek up at her reflection.

“How bad he wants you.”

 

Daehyun cleans up nicely. Very nicely. I’m not exactly sure why Youngjae doesn’t give him the time of day. I mean his accent is a little thick, and he can be a little dense when it comes to American culture, but he hasn’t even been in L.A. for a year. He’s still hot as fuck. Youngjae doesn’t usually play hard to get, so her genuinely not liking him could be possible, but I have a feeling that’s not the case. Sure there’s been plenty of guys that fit the bill of strong headed keeper of gangster girlfriend, but I think Youngjae and Daehyun would be a badass couple. With her nonchalance and his masked beauty, they are a good match.

Daehyun is singing her praises as soon as we enter. “Youngjae, I’m glad you came,” he says. She’s so damn lucky, she has no idea. "Umm, do you want me to show you around?"

"Umm, no," she says and pushes past him.

Yongguk and the others laugh. “Just give it up.”

“Fuck, I can’t, man. She’s beautiful.” Daehyun clasps his hands behind his head staring after her.

“She doesn’t want you.” Yongguk takes him by the shoulder and shakes him.

Daehyun’s eyes are glazed over and he shakes his head slowly. “At least she’s here. That means something. I gotta try, man. I have to try.”

 

An hour and a half into Daehyun’s get together, Youngjae has disappeared and Himchan and I shoot the breeze on the patio. “What about Namjoon?” Himchan nods over at the guy across the room.

“Ugh, No.” I snort and roll my eyes.

“Why not?” Himchan laughs. I don’t think there is anything she loves more than sex, everything from choosing a partner to rating their performance is a game to her. 

“Because he’s so painfully lame. I can hardly even stomach the thought of you two-” I mock heave into my drink. “Ugh just nevermind. No.”

“Flirt with Jungkook,” she nudges my shoulder. 

“Me?” I look back and forth between Himchan and Jungkook sitting at the table inside smiling. He’s a freshman and everything about him screams jailbait. I mean, I’m underaged too, but his babyface ruins everything for him. Even his small hand wrapped around the red cup he’s nursing looks illegal. “No,” I answer her. 

“Do it. Make Yongguk a little jealous. Then I’ll swoop in and snatch him.”

“Seriously? He’s like ten years younger than you.”

“So?” Himchan shrugs.

“Aaand, what would your precious Jongup think of that?” I tilt my head with a smile.

Himchan shoves my shoulder playfully. “Shut up, jerk. I heard he’s pretty good in the sack.”

“Isn’t he with Yoongi?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care. I wanna ride that little pony.”

“You’re sick.”

“Junnie, you sound like a virgin. Your first dick is precious and each one thereafter is a stepping stone in the journey to suck the souls out of these lames until we reach ultimate goddess status. You have the pussy, you have the power.”

“You’re my hero.”

“Ahh, this party is shit,” Himchan shouts over the music. “Needs more weed, more alcohol. More dick. Hey, there’s Bang Yong-Lame. I’ll let you two have a chat.” She downs the rest of her drink and sways back inside.

“She okay?” Yongguk asks stepping out into the patio and looking after her.

“Yeah, she’s cool.”

“Where’s your guard dog?”

“Youngjae is M.I.A,” I laugh. Yongguk stares at me with red eyes and licks his lips.

“It’s cold out here.”

“You don’t have to make excuses.” I lift an eyebrow, already aware that he wants to hug me. His cheeks turn red as he takes his hands out of his pockets and wraps his arms around my waist. “You’re cute when you’re high,” I tell him.

“You look really good tonight.” He twirls one of my curls around his finger.

“Don’t I always look good?”

“Hell yes.” His cold nose touches my ear. “Can we chill tomorrow?” Yongguk’s voice is deep and low, sending all kinds of chills down my spine.

“I think I can make time for you.”

“Yeah? Pencil me in.”

“I will.”

He pulls back and takes a hold of my chin to looks into my eyes, “Junhong.” The way he says my name like he’s been waiting to say it all night has goosebumps forming all over my skin. His alcohol laced breath washes over my face, but I don’t mind.

“What?” I ask searching his dark brown eyes.

“You’re driving me crazy, little girl.”

“I’m not a-”

“Shhh. Text me later. Don’t stay out too late and don’t go home with anyone.”

My knees. I can’t feel my knees. The second he lets me go I will collapse and end up bloody and bruised. Don’t walk away, I repeat a thousand times in my head, but what comes out when I open my mouth is, “Bye.”

 

“He said I was driving him crazy and not to go home with anyone,” I squeal trying not to wiggle my toes while Youngjae paints a second coat of black polish over my nails. I didn’t really drink or smoke anything after Yongguk left last night. I wanted to keep everything he said and the way I felt fresh. 

“He wants to fuck you.” Himchan bounces on her bed. She had instantly come to life from her hangover when I mentioned Yongguk.

“Shut up.” Youngjae takes a moment to glare at her then looks back at me. “Don’t trust him, Junnie. I’d rather you not speak to him at all, but if you want to get physical that’s your business. I’m just saying don’t give your heart to someone who isn’t capable of keeping it in tact.”

“Oh stop with the dramatics, Youngjae. There’s nothing wrong with falling in love, Junnie.”

“What the fuck do you know about love? You were fucking a ten year old all night. Trust no man, Junhong.”

“Ha, I gave him the time of his life, bitch.” Himchan laughs and picks up a pack of cigarettes from her nightstand. 

“Like I said, be careful.”

“Don’t worry, eonni. He won’t hurt me.”

“If he does, I’ll kill him,” they say in unison.

We all look at each other and laugh.


	2. Youngjae

Every morning I wake up and think, “What if I die today?” That way, I'm not taken by surprise if it happens. I hate surprises.

I roll over and hit what I immediately know is Yukwon's back. "The fuck are you doing in my bed?" I ask groggily.

He cranes his neck to blink back at me, groans and runs a hand through his hair. “Morning to you too, babe. You said I could crash here last night.”

“Must have been extremely fucked up,” I say and push myself up on my elbows.

“You were pretty trashed.”

"Ugh leave.” I groan and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. My head is pounding.

Yukwon throws the covers off and gets up to pull his pants on. I am mid stretch when the garage on the floor below my room roars to life. My eyes shoot open. My mom is home.

I tell Yukwon to get in the closet and I throw the clothes we peeled off last night inside behind him before hopping over my bed to open the balcony door and let some air in. I scan the room for paraphernalia as best I can with the searing throb in my head. An empty beer bottle at the foot of my bed catches my eye and I kick it under before climbing back into the blankets.

 

I pull the blankets over my head when I hear Seokjin and my mother’s murmured voices outside my door. My mother knocks gently before barging in. I can tell she knows I’m awake by the way she calls my name.

“Youngjae, I’m home. Come on, get up.”

My fingers tighten around the mess of black sheets, and I can only pray that Yukwon does not make the slightest god damned noise in that closet. “Mom please. I have a huge test today.”

“Then you should get up and have some breakfast.”

“Alright,” I groan and turn over to make it appear as if I’m preparing to get up soon. “Five more minutes.”

My door closes, but I don’t move an inch. The offender could be inside. I wait patiently, almost drifting back off until Jin comes back to say the coast is clear. I peek out of the blanket and watch him stroll over toward my closet. He taps the door twice with his knuckles, “You can come out, buddy.”

Yukwon jumps out with a smile, “What's up man?” They shake hands and I roll my eyes. Yukwon is actually one of Jin’s good friends. It’s terrible that my brother has no problem with a scumbag like him screwing his sister. I get up and give Jin the finger when he complains about my lack of clothing. Then dig around in my overflowing laundry basket for the mini bottle of vodka hidden under my clothes and chug it.

"Breakfast of Champions," Yukwon laughs and claps a hand on my shoulder.

"Why are you still here?" I ask, looking at him from the corner of my eye.

“Yeah, we have work to do,” Jin leads him out of my room. Seokjin isn’t even a full year older than me, but somehow my mother has crowned him prince of the three bedroom townhouse we live in. It is absolutely ridiculous because he helps me get away with shit. Not that I’m complaining, I’m just saying he and my mother are both idiots.

As the saying goes, the best cure for a hangover is more alcohol. I search around for another mini bottle, only finding some cheap wine in my sock drawer. It will have to do since my stash was depleted over the weekend. I hate Mondays. I hate them worse than going to school hungover and half sober. After pulling my uniform from a hanger and my makeup bag from my dresser I shuffle toward the bathroom. At least I will look good.

 

My bible thumping homeroom teacher thinks it is a great idea to assign us a project on trust. She needs to get her head out of the clouds and reread her job description, which is to babysit us for a few minutes until the real shitfest starts. Screw her and her trust questionnaire. There is not a single person that knows everything about me and I’d like to keep it that way.

I’m already done with school for the day and it is not even 9am. I didn’t even meet Junhong in the restroom this morning. I kind of feel like an asshole, but she will get over it. I could ditch and go to Himchan’s house, but I do not feel like being around anyone and I can not be sure if my mom is home or not. I wish she was one of those mothers that worked all day and didn’t give a rats ass about what I do as long as I stay out of her way. But she is a drug lords widow that is determined to be a perfect mother while keeping a stronghold on the dynasty, therefore appears to be heavily involved in her children’s lives by showing up to PTA’s and the dinner table. Except she is not really there. She is emotionally unavailable at best. Perhaps a trait she passed down to me.

 

After school I give Junnie a ride to work, ignore Himchan’s invite to the movies via text, and head straight home. I don’t think I can handle much more human interaction today. The reason is most likely the fact that I haven’t smoked since yesterday. Afternoon. Completely rational. Himchan, Junnie, and I smoked all weekend and now I have to suffer. My only hope in this god forsaken valley is Old Man Yixing. My 60 year old neighbor that grows the best cannabis I have ever had the pleasure to inhale in his garage.

 

I ring Old Man Yixing’s bell and lean against the railing waiting for him to answer. I have half a mind to nudge the small Buddha statue near the door down the steps with my foot because I don’t like the smile on its face. But I don’t want ashes from the incense on my new shoes, and I respect Old Man Xing too much. His son Zitao, who is sixteen and about six feet tall peeks out of the door. His black bangs match the dark bags under his eyes, but otherwise his face is completely pale. He stares at me with those thin, unearthly eyes and I cross my arms. He is so fucking strange.

“Is your dad home?” I ask. Zitao shakes his head and I huff. “Do you know if he will be back soon?”

He shrugs his bony shoulders and I notice that I have yet to see him blink. “He went to the market.” 

“Alright. I’ll just come back later,” I say. He doesn’t close the door or say ‘I’ll tell him you came by’ which pisses me off. His eyes sweep down my face and stop at my chest. I tutt and lean forward to give him a better view of what he will never have. He could probably use some new jerk off material. “Like what you see, perv?” I snap. He quickly steps back and shuts the door in my face. “Tell your dad I came by, dumb ass,” I shout loud enough for him to hear on the other side of the door.

“Shit,” I hiss under my breath as I descend the steps and walk back to my place. I have no choice but to pinch a little bit of the mary jane Seokjin gave me to sell.

 

My brother isn’t so bad when I think about it. I do hate him for the most part, but with a slight attitude adjustment I guess he would be alright. I am kind of touched that he actually noticed how much I hate hitting my mom up for cash. Moreover, I kind of appreciate him risking his ass to give me the opportunity to make my own.  
I keep the sandwich bag of weed he gave me hidden in a hollow bedpost at the foot of my bed. I’m supposed to be selling it at school, and I do when I feel like it, but I have not been feeling up to it lately. Half the basketball team have already become my regulars. I am surprised that they haven't been blowing my phone up.

My dad often comes to mind when I light a cigarette or a joint. I get this strange feeling I can’t explain. It is a small sense of guilt because he is probably turning over in his grave each time I light up. And then there is the nostalgia. I remember wanting to be around my dad whenever hit lit a cigar because I loved watching him flick open his silver lighter and seeing the flame shoot out. My dad was the coolest. The most frigid man I have ever known in my life, and I spent all my days trying to show him that I too was cool enough to deserve his affection. Every day until he passed away when I was thirteen.

Taking a long drag, I lie back on my bed, tuck my arm behind my head and blink away memories of wrestling Seokjin in the living room to impress my dad. I reach over and stuff the bag back into my bedpost, not bothering to put the cap back on. “I’m sorry I’m not much of a saleswomen, dad. I’m not much of anything.” I wipe away the tear that slides down my face before it slides into my ear. “Are you ashamed?”

 

I don’t know how long I stare at the ceiling, but I hope it is close to the end of time. Seokjin’s signature knock, three two three, causes me to sigh. He lets himself in and I look over and say, “What?”

Jin places his palm on my forehead and pushes my head down in the mattress. “Haven’t you ever heard the ancient proverb, ‘Never get high on your own supply?’” He slaps my cheek almost affectionately and I sit up and slap him back.

“Ow.” He holds his face and punches me in the arm. I glare at him and punch him back. Seokjin chuckles and rubs him arm. “You hit hard, but you’ll always be a punk.”

“Whatever. Get out,” I say pointing at the door.

“Excuse me, I came to give you a bit of information.”

“Fine, what is it?”

“Probably shouldn’t tell you when you’re high as a jet.”

“I’m not that fucking high. I’ve got my senses about me. I know what’s what and who's who.”

"Looks like someone is stepping on your toes. An old schoolmate of yours."

“Who?” I ask flatly. Whoever it is that thinks they can take my customers will be taken care of easily.

“Yongguk Bang.”

I sit up fully, anger surging through me at the mention of that assholes name. “What?”

 

“Rise and grind, baby sis,” Jin peels my blanket off my head and pats my cheek several times.

I try to wiggle an arm out of the cocoon I’m in to slap his hand away. “Stop it,” I grunt.

“Wooo.” He takes a few steps back, waving his hand in front of his face. “Dra-gon breath.” I get up and open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but he holds up one hand and pinches his nose with the other. “No. Don’t speak. Just get dressed.”

I skipped school today to accompany Jin on a mission, as he put it. He told me I would have to be up and ready to go by five am, but I stayed up all night anyway. No rest for the wicked.

I thought Jin was actually going to show me some kind of code of ethics when I agreed to accompany him. But after a three hour drive to the border he pulled into a shitty motel and told me to stay in the car.

We spend the whole drive home listening to Seokjin’s pansy emo music. I seriously think about reaching over and steering us into the freeway divider. When we pass our house and pull into the donut shop were Junhong works I huff and cross my arms.

“Why are we here?” I ask when Jin kills the engine.

“Can’t a man get a pastry?” He shrugs getting out of the car.

I stay inside, and watch him talk to Taehyung who looks nervous. His eyes keep shifting between me, or the car, I don’t think he can see me, and Jin. Kid is a weirdo.

"Why did you take so long? You could have left the fucking keys," I say to Jin when he gets back.

"Quit your bitching.” He laughs sitting a box of donuts on my lap. “You know Youngjae,” he starts quietly. “I asked you to come with me today because I wanted to tell you something important."

"Yes, I figured as much. But you didn't tell me shit, you wasted my time." I look over at him and his usually bright eyes are dim.

“Yeah," he says smiling again, reaching for a donut. "You know you can’t just sell to anyone.” He takes a bite of the glaze twist he picked out.

“I know that. I’m not stupid.” I roll my eyes and he ruffles my hair.

“Well you sure act like it.”

"Please. I'm smarter than you."

"I'm way smarter than you," he argues, starting the car.

“If you were any smarter than me you would be in college. You and Himchan both. I swear your generation is full of idiots.”

“Yeah pretty sure we’re in the same generation, idiot.”

 

We spend the drive home arguing about who is smarter and better looking and I occasionally punch Jin in the thigh. He deserves it. He’s a bitch. “Where have you been?” My mother says, looking directly at me when we get home.

“She was with me,” Seokjin answers and I mentally curse myself, hoping she was not home when the school called to report me absent. “I picked her up from school.” Jin shrugs and tosses his keys on the counter. “What’s for dinner?”

My mother looks between the two of us as if she would know whether or not we were lying and says, “Take out.” I suggest chicken and my mother sends us out with her card.

“You could at least thank me." Jin nudges my shoulder on the way out. I ignore him. He has no choice but to cover for me.

 

“You’re late,” Junhong says, crouched on the school restroom sink with a notebook open on her lap and her cellphone beside her. We meet here every morning before school starts and at lunch. 

“My apologies,” I reply flatly and nod toward the paper she is scribbling on. “What do you have there?”

She looks at her phone and writes another line. “Adoption agencies.”

I nod. “I see.” Junhong is a good kid. I kind of feel bad for getting high with her so much, but we all need a release. An escape from reality. And I am nobody’s mother. I think she has the potential to deal with her issues without drugs, she just got caught up in the wrong crowd. It kind of tickles me to think of myself and Himchan as the wrong crowd.

kicking open a stall, I take a seat on one of the toilets. Get out the weed Old Man Xing gave me this morning and begin to roll it. The restroom door creaks open and I freeze. No one comes in this restroom. Ever.

Without thinking I stuff the weed back in the baggie and into my underwear. I’d be damned if I flush it down the toilet. I’m pissed to say the least when Himchan is standing in front of me wearing her old uniform and a smile.

“The fuck are you doing here?” I stand up and fish the baggie out. 

“Came to get high with you bitches. You guys should lock the door by the way.”

“Ugh now I have to share my good shit.” I frown at her. “Junnie, window please.”

“I am. I needa get this down.” She scribbles across her notebook like lightning. 

I can almost hear Himchan’s gossip needy ears perk as she walks over to Junhong. “What is that? Something for Yongguk?”

“Wow. Contrary to popular belief, my life does not revolve around a boy.”

“Shade,” I say, sprinkling weed on a small sheet for the second time.

“No shade.” Himchan flips her long hair and wags a finger. “Only shame. If you two had a dick in your throat every now and then you wouldn’t talk so much shit.”

“If you didn’t have so much dick in your throat, your breath wouldn’t smell like shit,” I reply, sliding my tongue across the edge of the rolling paper.

“Fuck you.” Himchan snatches the joint from me and lights it.

“That’s a cute lighter.” I point at the black device in Himchan’s hand. The embossed lines make it look like leather. It would look cute in my purse. “Where’d you get it?”

Himchan blows smoke and shrugs. “Stole from a bum.”

“You’re pathetic.”

“What? He probably stole it himself.” She inhales and holds the smoke in before blowing it out nodding her head. “This from old man Yixing?”

“Yeah.” I nod taking the joint from her.

“He has the best weed on earth. It’s probably some ancient Chinese dro that’s been growing since the T’ang Dynasty. Passed down from generation to generation.”

I look over at her and shake my head.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Junnie asks. Himchan shrugs and giggles and Junhong finally stands to push the rusty window open.

 

Daehyun transferred here last year and has been giving me googly eyes ever since. I can tell he gets excited when he sees me in the cafeteria. I almost never set foot in the place and when I do, it is because Junhong is hungry. I wait for her at a table in the corner where I can clearly see Daehyun and the nerd herd he chills with. He looks at me and lifts his hand with a small smile. I roll my eyes and cross my arms. Hell if I will be seen waving at that kid.

My body does that jelly thing again when he gets up and walks over to me. I calculate every possible exit, but my escape seems unlikely. The best I can do is prepare myself for the worst. A confession.

“Don’t tell me you came over here because I look lonely or something equally moronic,” I say when he sits down next to me.

“No, not exactly. Just wanted to say hi,” he says softly.

“Hi,” I deadpan. My sharp eyes pierce Daehyun so hard that he has to sit back and chuckle to himself. His laugh is kind of attractive. “Well, if that’s all you wanted to say then, bye.”

Daehyun swallows and I can not help but notice his adam’s apple bob. His throat looks strong. His licks his lips and stands. A barely audible bye is mumbled before he leaves.

 

Junhong skips over to me with a tray of nachos, all smiles and sunshine. “What did he say?”

“Junhong, please.” I wave a hand and start for the restroom. My nerves are shot and my skin is crawling. I need a cigarette.

“Tell me.” She giggles, tailing me like a puppy.

“I only gave him a chance to say hi. He isn’t worth my time.”

“Come on, Youngjae! He’s sweet. So what if he’s fresh off the boat? His English isn’t that bad and everyone you hang out with is Korean anyway. What’s the damn difference?” She asks scooping a cheese covered chip into her mouth.  
  
“I’m not interested in him.” 

“Okay...?” Junhong looks at me expecting an explanation.

“Okay, he’s too...nice.”

“What’s wrong with that?” She asks incredulously.

“Everything.”

“Stop being mean. Give him a chance.”  
  
"I do not tolerate the male race," I say firmly.

Jungong cracks a smile and pushes the restroom door open. "You tolerate Yukwon."

"He gives good head."

"Daehyun might be a cherry pie eating champion too,” she exclaims, waving her arms. “You never know. Give him a chance. "

“You’ve been hanging around Himchan too long. You’re starting to sound like her. Let’s not talk about this anymore,” I order. Junhong shakes her head and hops on the counter. I draw the cigarette I hid in my sock and light it up. The nicotine fills my lungs and soothes me.

Daehyun thinks I don’t give a shit about him. And he is right about that, I don’t. But I noticed him the day he transferred here, and every day since. He might be good looking if he cut his hair a little shorter and lost the glasses and ditched the braces, but like I said, he is too nice and too stupid. I don’t even know why I give it so much thought. I am out of his league. I sigh heavily and tell Junhong to open the window.

 

My mother is known to be flaky, well at least between Jin and I, so I should not have been surprised when she canceled our shopping date. It happens the same way every time, I come home to find her on her way out, and say, "You said we'd go shopping today." She pretends to be regretful,"I know what I said, sweetie, but something came up. There will be another time." Then I nod and step aside, saying, “Yeah, maybe next time.”

Getting high with Old Man Yixing solves a lot of my problems. He’s a chill guy. I should tell him that more often. “You’re a chill guy, Mr. Zhang.” I confess as he passes me the joint we’ve been sharing.

“I know.” He grins and laughs a brittle laugh, patting me on the shoulder. He coughs and I jump a little. I hate it when he does that. He is so skinny and fragile looking I fear he is going to croak in front of me one day. He better not because I’m out of here. “Your mom out?” He asks looking over at my place two doors down.

“Yes, sir,” I answer blowing smoke and picking up his watering can, tipping it over the flowers near his door. I want to badmouth my mom to him so badly. Tell him a hundred awful things about her, but I can’t. She is still my mom.

“You’re a good daughter,” he says nodding and taking the joint back from me. I think the old man can read minds. “Go have fun with your friends,” he says taking the watering can and shooing me away from his house. I reluctantly agree. I guess it wouldn’t kill me to go shopping with Himchan and Junhong.

 

“Youngjae eonni, why do you buy so much black?” Junhong asks swatting the pile of clothes hanging over my arm. “There are other colors you know.”

“Black is the only color,” I politely inform her.  
  
Himchan holds a pink knit sweater up to Junhong and shakes her head, putting it back on the rack. “How’s the shit with your parents coming along?” she asks. Junhong frowns and shakes her head.

“I’m gonna call that guy from that one show,” Himchan cries like just came up with the best idea in the world.

“What show?” I ask.

“The one where he finds people’s family and they all reunite and cry. Oh god, what’s it called?”

“That show is fabricated.”

“Who on earth would fake losing a family member?”

“For money? You,” I point at her.

Himchan kicks me in the shin. “Suck my dick.”

Himchan is truly an example of the human spirit determined to have something. The obvious answer is love. But I think there are some layers on top of that waiting to be peeled back. She’s a middle child with a shitload of sisters that are equally as gorgeous as her. Therefore she is forced to feel like she is no one special even though she is. Was. She used to be someone special to me.

“Oh my god. Eonnie, they’re coming,” Junhong jumps and squeals with her face centimeters away from her phone.

“Who?” I ask browsing through a rack of black pants. The same piglet squeal leaves her mouth every time one of her fifty favorite bands is holding a concert in town.

“The Pumpkin’s,” she whines with watery eyes.  
  
“Ahh I don’t wanna see your Gashing Pumpkins,” Himchan says meeting me on the pants rack. I bump her shoulder and switch places with her. “Junnie, this one will look good on you,” she exclaims holding up a black sweater with white bows on it.

“I can make that,” Junhong says desperately then lifts her phone in the air. “Did you guys not hear what I just said? My favorite band in this whole shitty universe will be playing the most amazing songs I’ve ever had the pleasure to hear, thirty minutes away from here. In three months.”

Himchan lifts here eyebrows, unimpressed. “Yeah, we heard.”  
  
“Okay. We’ll get tickets and go.” I shrug.

Junhong's cute face falls, “Why aren’t you guys excited?”

“We are,” Himchan sings.

“We’re ecstatic,” I agree.

 

We decide to hotbox in my car before leaving the mall. Himchan promised to buy us Taco Bell in exchange for a ride home. She’s dumb because I was going to give her a ride anyway.

“Pass the green,” Himchan slaps Junhong’s shoulder. I lower my window the slightest bit to let some air in the car. A couple walking by catches my eye. The guy, no more that twenty is holding the girl’s wrist who is a couple steps behind him wearing a pout.

“Look at that girl, being dragged by her boyfriend.” I point lazily. Himchan and Junhong are sprawled out in the back seat of my car while I hold it down in the driver’s end where I belong. My throne. It’s a modern day hearse.

“Pshh. I hate girls like that,” Himchan says. “Don’t be like that, Junhong.” I see Junnie nod slowly in the rearview mirror, her eyes barely open. “Fuck any guy that tries to make you think he is in control of you. Your vagina is gold. As long as it’s between your thighs you always have power.”  
  
“Poetic,” I say, running my fingers through my hair.

“Truth, baby girl. I only speak the truth.”

Himchan initiates a game of rank the boys that has Junhong giggling and turning pink, but honestly it is pissing me off. All she ever talks about is guys. I have had about enough when she starts to list off things she would do to Jimin in detail. “Do you have anything else to talk about?” I snap at her.

Himchan huffs. “You used to be fun. What happened to you?”

“I grew up,” I answer.

Himchan kicks the back of my seat. Hard. “Bitch, shut up. You’re seventeen.”

I shove my key into the ignition and start my car. It is time to take these bitches home.

 

After pulling up to the curb at my house, I spritz myself with body spray and squeeze a couple of eyedrops in my eyes. I give my eyes a minute to clear up before stalking inside. Yukwon is lazing on the couch beside Jin, which is good for me. I can blow off some steam.

“Hey, butterfly, how was your day?” He asks me when I walk by.

“Don’t call me that. Be in my room in fifteen minutes.” 

“Feisty,” he mumbles. 

My bed is soft and cool when I lie back on it. My eyelids feel so much heavier than they should. I’m too young to feel so old. More than a minute could not have passed before Yukwon stepped inside. I look over in time to see him lock the door. He smiles at me, emptying all kinds of plastics from his pocket. I sit up and reach under my bed for a shoe box to give him. He takes it and sits beside me, starting to break down the weed he took out of his pocket. 

“Looked like you needed this,” he says crushing the green nuggets and sprinkling them neatly along rolling paper. I unbutton my shirt, letting it fall off my shoulders and slide down my arms then lie down.

“I had a long day. Dialogue is unnecessary.” I don’t look at him when I slid my underwear off because I don’t really give a shit if he is turned on or not.

Yukwon smiles a little and passes me the joint after taking a hit. He takes off his shirt and gets on his knees at the edge of my bed, pushing my own pair apart. My burgundy pleated skirt drapes beautifully over his head when he moves in to take the first lick. I moan softly, exhaling thick smoke, pushing his head down causing his nose to slide between my folds. He flattens his tongue and teases me with long slow laps. I refuse to whine or beg for more. I have too much class for that. I close my eyes and wrap my lips around the joint, pulling hard, desperate for my lungs to fill up with the pleasure my body is begging for. 

Yukwon's tongue is magic. It swirls around my clit the same way smoke swirls around my head. I nearly drop the weed when he nibbles at it. My body shakes and I cry out, yanking my skirt up so I can tug at his hair. He chuckles when my thighs meet the sides of his face. I shudder at the vibration as he begins to suck at the flesh. Every nerve in my body has awakened. I can’t hear the moans spilling from my mouth, but I can feel them leaving my throat. Yukwon’s nails dig painfully into my knees as he hold my legs apart, keeping them from crushing his head.

“Oh shit,” I hiss as his tongue dips inside of me. He’s perfect. This boy is fucking perfect. I look down at him, loving the way my black socked heel digs into his pale shoulder, his blond hair in messy tufts in my fists. I roll my hips, wrapping my legs around his head as his tongue darts in and out of me. “Fuck,” I gasp. “Eat my pussy, you little bitch.” I take another hit of weed before stubbing it out on the shoebox lid. With my newly freed hand I squeeze each of my breasts before yanking my bra down, twisting and pinching each nipple.

Yukwon’s entire face moves with my body. He licks, sucks and nips for an amount of time my brain cannot register. I sit up with a groan when two of his long fingers enter me. I bite the back of my hand and ride his fingers as he finds his way back up to my clit sucking hard. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.” I grunt more to myself than him. He hums and nods his head, encouraging me. My head falls back and my hair sweeps across the top of my ass, I can’t help but think it feels nice. Everything feels nice, but an angry kind of nice. I feel myself become angry at the thought of the word nice. I buck my hips harshly toward Yukwon’s face and feel his fingers curl inside me. That’s it. That’s all it takes for my body to tense and a choked moan-growl to leaves my mouth.

 

“So you feel sympathetic towards him. That means you love him,” Junhong says sitting across from me in the cafeteria. I hate the cafeteria, but I accompany her because she insists on eating nachos, which look to me like cheese and jalapeno soup and I try not to gag each time she fishes out a soggy chip. I look at her blankly, disappointed by her careless statement. 

I don’t know what they teach you in Korea, but Daehyun should know every American he meets isn’t A) a superstar or B) his friend. That's another thing that I can’t stomach about him. He thinks everyone and everything is so great. If I didn’t think he were so pathetic, I would laugh at him. It is so ridiculous how he laughs at everything the nerds at his table says and tries every American delicacy they offer. I shake my head and take another sip of my Pepsi. The straw is sticky, stained pink from my lip gloss and I frown, wiping it off. Daehyun steals a hundredth glance at me and my body does that weird jelly feel thing again, but I quickly remind myself that he can’t see my eyes through my dark glasses. He can’t possibly know I’m looking at him.

I crack my neck and look away in case I am being obvious. Which I know I’m not. He is the one being obvious. Alway making himself look dumb. I feel sorry for him.  “Junhong, don’t say stupid things during lunch. For one, I do not- can not sympathize with Jung Daehyun. And two, sympathy does not equal love. What are you on?” 

“Nothing. That’s the problem,” she says resting her face on her fist. She sighs before saying, “I wish I had a boy that worshipped me the way Daehyun adores you.”

“Please. There are plenty of dorks that want your love and affection. Look behind you.”

“Ugh, not them. I wish one specific asshole would worship me.”

“You don’t need that ashhole.” I scrunch my nose. “Or any other asshole for that matter.”

“Youngjae eonni, you don’t know how it feels to be in love.”

“You’re right about that.” I sip what is left of my drink and continue to watch Daehyun.

 

Mr. Song, my English teacher is great. The best teacher on campus in my opinion. He is very passionate about teaching and fair treatment. Keeps a level head and conceals his emotions. If I could ever fall in love with a guy, it would be a guy like Mino- Mr. Song, I mean.

I often stick around with him after class. After everyone leaves in a hurry, glad school is over, I sit in the back and watch him erase the board, one hand in his pocket while his strong arm sweeps across the board. Today, he has the sleeves of his light blue dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. I love when he wears his shirts like that. Sometimes I get to see him roll them up too. He always does it when he gets really into talking about a book that had moved him in some way. He gets this big grin, rolls his sleeves up and leans over the projector, casting a shadow over the classroom, over me.

 

I think what I love most about Mr. Song is that he hears me when I speak. I get this strange feeling that swells up in me when I speak to him, like he understands the real me. I have yet to feel that with anyone else.

“Miss Yoo, is there something troubling you?” he asks me after class.

“No. Yes. No. I don’t really know. I mean what do I really have to worry about, right?”

“The way I see it there are plenty of things that could burden a girl your age.”

“I don’t feel like a girl anymore,” I tell him quietly pulling thread from the hem of my skirt. “I feel like an old woman.”

The corner of Mr. Song’s lip turns up slightly. He looks handsome like that. “Lay it on me, old woman.”

I could laugh if my stomach was not twisted in knots. “My friends are chasing after boys and I’m not. Is something wrong with me?”

“I don’t believe there is anything wrong with you. Who says you need a boy?”

“Society. My friends.”

Mr. Song leans against his desk and crosses his legs. “Women can be perfectly happy without the presence of a man.”

“You’re right. I don’t need a man. I am perfectly capable of loving myself.”

“Good. Now that we have established that you don’t need a man, do you want one?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t know anything. I don’t feel anything anymore. And when I try to feel something, I only feel anger.” I turn to him. “Why is that?” 

“I think that is something you have to figure out. Try this, when you get angry, ask yourself, ‘What is making me feel so angry? What are the emotions underneath my anger?’ I can tell you one thing, Miss Youngjae. And you may not want to hear it, but almost always, beneath anger is hurt.”

“I don’t know, Mr. Song. It feels like empty anger.”

“Dig deeper sweetheart,” he smiles. “In the meantime I’d like to know if you’re interested participating in the school’s upcoming play. The Nativity Story, I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

“Me? I respectfully decline, Mr. Song. I’m not much of an actress.”

“Think about it. Can you sing? We need singers.” He crosses his arms and leans forward. God, he looks handsome.

“I can- I can sing.”


	3. Himchan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick thanks to Kapike who probably didn't even know those messages encouraged me to carry on when I did not want to.

 

 

She who is brave is free. This I'm certain of. 

I have to be brave. Face my fears. Even to me it sounds cliche and corny as fuck, but hey, at least I’m not saying it out loud.

I look around to make sure no one I know sees me head inside the raggedy bungalow at the community college nearest my house. I hurry up the steps and into the door to sign up for my GED. Before you bitch about me taking the easy way out, trust me, I’m not. Wouldn't it be easier to sit back and do nothing? 

Inside, a middle-aged woman with graying hair hands me a clipboard and I find a seat in the corner. I fill out the pages accordingly and stop at one that has a doodle of a boy reaching for cloud, with the words WHAT’S YOUR DREAM? in bold letters above it. My dream? I almost laugh, then bite the tip of the attached pen for a second until I realize how disgusting it is. Tapping the pen on the paper I stare at the words and empty lines. Lines I’m supposed to fill with some fantasy fuckery. When’s the last time me or anyone I know had the luxury of dreaming?

After a few moments I look around, eyes stopping at the receptionist patiently waiting for me to turn in my paperwork. Hastily, I flip the forms back in place and stand to bring them back to her. 

“Himchan Kim?” the frail woman reads my name from my application. I lick my lips, swallow and nod stiffly. I wish she wouldn’t say my name so loud. 

She flips through the forms with a kind smile, stopping at the blank lines on the last page. I softly groan and my feet turn toward the door by their own will. “You didn’t fill this one out,” she smiles up at me. I remain silent and still. “Surely you have a dream.” She slides the clipboard back to me.

“I don’t,” I say quietly.

“Think about it,” she gently insists. 

I huff and turn my head toward the door before turning back to her. “Hey, is it really important- is it mandatory? Can I fill it out another time or something? I have to go.”

The receptionist shakes her head with the same endearing smile. “That’s it. You’re free to go.” She looks over the forms one last time. “I’ll give you a call.”

“Thanks,” I say quickly, immediately feeling bad for acting like a bitch. “Thank you,” I repeat and bow slightly before rushing out.

There. That’s it. I’m signed up. 

I sigh, more like exhale. A weight has been lifted off my chest so swiftly that I have to laugh. Stand there and grin until I start to giggle on the concrete steps. I spread my arms and look up into the bright blue sky. This is a new chapter. I’m my own woman now. I am brave and I am free.

  
  
 

I haven’t quite pinned who the hell Youngjae Yoo thinks she is, or why she feels it’s fine to keep me waiting all the time. She probably thinks she’s better than me because she’s younger than me and she has a car. Who gives a fuck, she’ll never be prettier than me. I’ve tried to knock her off her high horse several times but she doesn’t even budge.

It doesn’t help that Jongup Moon has walked into the Taco Bell where I am awaiting the arrival of her highness. Fuck her lame ass school play. I do not have time for the way his presence is about to eat away at my sanity. He makes me nervous enough to sink into the booth and hide behind my taco supreme. I casually switch sides of the booth I’m sitting in so that my back faces him. I hope he doesn’t recognize me- what am I saying who wouldn’t recognize me? Just hopefully he doesn’t approach me. My heart is pounding so hard it’s difficult to swallow.

Ugh, Jongup Moon. He’s amazing. More than that, really. I just can’t find the words to describe him. I could spend hours and nothing I come up with would do him justice. The thing is, he has never said or done anything in particular for me to come to the conclusion that he is perfect. He just is. I feel it. Since the first time I saw him sitting on the disgusting ground playing Pokemon cards with his dorky friends during lunch, I felt this... this burning light. Like it was emitting from him, piercing through me. Oh, I don’t know, people might think I’m crazy if they knew any of this. If he knew, oh God I’d be so embarrassed.

I mean, I’m not gonna lie, I’m a hot chick. Definitely one of Los Angeles’ most wanted if I do say so myself, but this boy- I could never have him. I’m not good enough for someone like him. He probably likes those really pure girls anyway. Sweet and shy, glowing white skin with a background as clean as her conscious- or reputation, whatever. He’s probably never uttered a profanity in his life, most likely he’s as good as the book he carries under his arm. Point is, Jongup is virtuous. And although I don’t believe I deserve him, Lord knows I need something virtuous in my life.

I almost choke when that something virtuous appears before me.

“Hi,” Jongup smiles, a tray loaded with tacos in his hands. I can’t help but smile back. It happens every damn time he smiles. He doesn’t even have to be smiling at me. 

“Hi,” I say a lot softer than I mean to. And then I fucking blush.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks beginning to place the tray on the table.

I clear my throat, pulling my own tray closer, “Not at all. You think you got enough there?” I ask pointing my chin at his food. 

“Hungry,” he grins and nods. 

Seven. I count his seven tacos over and over again to keep my eyes off his face. “How’s your day going,” he asks ripping open several hot sauce packets.

“It was alright. Yours? You coming from Bible Study?” I ask finally looking at his face.

Jongup crunches down on his first taco, bits of the hard shell hitting the tray, “Yup.”

Of course he is. Such a good boy. Only a handful of kids actually attend after school Bible Study and I know none of them. Well aside from Jongup I don’t.   
  
“It has to be a sin to be sitting so close to me after leaving the bible club.”   
  
“Sorry?” Jongup knits his eyebrows and that pretty little crease in between them catches my attention. “Is there something wrong with you?”

“What, what makes you say that?” I ask sitting up a little straighter. I knew it. He can see straight through me.

He smiles softly “You don’t like me, do you?”

“I- no- why are you asking me that?” Shit this is bad. I’m really fucking up right now. My mind is racing so fast with stupid thoughts that I can’t put into words. Fix it Himchan, fix it. Tell him you love him. Tell him you’ll suck his dick. Shit no, I can’t tell him any of that.   
  
My phone vibrates with a text from Youngjae saying, ‘I'm here. Come outside now if you want a ride.’

“I have to go,” I tell Jongup, quickly putting my purse over my shoulder and running my fingers through my hair. 

He looks up at me sadly, “So soon?”

“Sorry. Can you toss that for me?” I point at my tray of taco wrappers before rushing out.  

 

“The fuck took you so long,” Youngjae barks, driving off before the passenger door is fully closed. Such a bitch.

“I’m guessing quire practice didn’t go well,” I mention referring to the play audition she stayed after school for.

“It was fan-fucking-tastic,” she says gripping the steering wheel and making a sharp right at the corner.

“Somebody needs some bleach for their potty mouth.”

“Fuck you, Himchan.” Youngjae grunts in that manly way she always does and turns up radio volume full blast. 

We head over to one of her shops to grab Junnie from work. Jae thinks we don’t know her family invested some dirty money into a chain of donut shops to cover their tracks. She thinks we don’t know her dad was a drug lord. Well I do. I know everything. I also know everyone thinks I’m the one that should be working, not Junnie. Me, a dumbass that dropped outta high school halfway through her senior year. Yeah, I know what they say about me. The ones that are brave enough to talk.

Youngjae gets out of the car and strides into the donut shop with all the grace of an animated villain. I’d ask her what’s bothering her again if I wasn’t afraid she’d rip my head off. Some of the reasons why I hate her are the same reasons why I love her.

Jae’s got this real independent confidence about her. This ‘fuck off I can take care of myself’ aura. Although she can be a major bitch, I kind of like that about her. She doesn’t need anybody. Not to tell her she’s smart or doing things right or that she’s a fabulous bitch. I love her. I envy her.

  
 

Jae’s house, my second home. I’ve known her since elementary, but it was actually her brother that I was friends with. He was in my grade. Good ole’ Yoo Seokjin. “Speak of the devil,” I mutter as he strides in Youngjae’s bedroom. 

“Just can’t keep my name out of your mouth, huh?” Seokjin grins.

“We weren’t even talking about you,” Junhong starts.

“Haha nope,” I smile and throw one of Youngjae’s sockballs at him. “Actually Seokjin, I know of something you can’t keep outta your mouth.” Jin glances at Youngjae then gives me the finger.   

“What do you want?” Youngjae grumbles hunched over the edge of her bed like a bridge troll, scowling at Junhong’s sloppy rolling.  

“How was the audition?”  
  
“Get out.”

“Don’t ask. We already tried,” I offer while crawling over to Junnie to give her a hand. Flakes of weed coat her sweaty fingertips and I won't be surprised if Youngjae backhands her any second now.

Seokjin gives Youngjae a long look and a pat on the shoulder before shaking his head and leaving the room. 

“So what’s the deal with you and Yongguk? Has he banged you yet?” I ask, lightly pulling a fistful of Junhong’s hair. 

“Ugh.” She frowns lighting the joint I rolled properly. “He keeps calling me cute, and I don’t want to be cute. I want him to think of me as a sex dragon.”

“I know what you mean, girl. It’s hard to find good, willing, dick. I was with this guy the other night and he was ramming his fingers into me for like forty minutes and I’m all ‘Yo, either dick me down or get the fuck out.’” I pause to take a short pull and exhale too quickly to enjoy it. “You know what I mean?” I throw my hands and turn to Youngjae.

She looks back at me blankly and reaches out for the weed, “Sorry to hear that.”

“The mighty D is in short supply these days,” I say, shaking my head. 

Junhong giggles and Youngjae falls back onto her bed. “You’re a slut.”

“Yeah. And I’m broke. Hook me up with Zico,” I demand, slapping her leg. “My cuticles are fucked and I could do with a spa day,” I say examining my nails.

“Bitch, have several seats. I’m not hooking you up, get a job.”

“Suck my dick. Fuck a job. Lick my clit.” 

“Mature,” Youngjae sits up and narrows her eyes at me.

“Naturally,” I wink back.

Junnie plops down onto my lap and shoves a flier in my face. A casting call for models it reads, but I ask anyway, “What’s this?”

“I wasn’t kidding about you becoming a model,” she says. I smile because the little jerk is so thoughtful. Junnie, she’s a sweet kid. And talented as hell. She can think up, sketch, and sew together an outfit so fast it’ll make your head spin. She’s a bad bitch, when it comes to fashion, like me. That’s why I had to take her under my wing. She’s going places, big places.

“You can do it eonni, I know you can.”

 

It's too early to be awake, but it's never too early to get high. I'd bet my life Youngjae is in the second stall of the infamous abandoned Valley Brook restroom inhaling some sort of smoke, be it weed or cigarette. Such a predictable bitch.

I pound my fist on the locked door three times then kick it twice, hoping I scare the shit outta her. The door opens after a few moments and I am pleased to see Youngjae livid this early in the morning.

“Asshole,” she hisses before letting me in.

I smile and toss my bag on the sinks. “Straighten up and wipe the devil’s dandruff from your nose, young lady. Your parents are paying a lot of money for your education.”

"Shut up," she slurs fluffing her hair.

“Gimme a dime bag.”

“Where’d you get money?”

“Is that even a question?”

“It’s not. I wouldn’t be surprised if men paid you to let them pay you.”

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

“You should.”

“Your pupils are huge,” I say admiring her feline eyes. Youngjae has one of the most alluring pairs of eyes I’ve ever seen. In tenth grade she used to wear these hazel contacts all the time, I wonder why she stopped.

“Thats what he said.” Youngjae giggles and twirls over to the sink.

“Okay, that makes no sense, but whatever you’re on please get a prescription.”

“Ahh prescription,” Youngjae sighs, admiring her reflection. She sways slightly holding the ends of her skirt, “When are getting more Xanax?”

“Not soon enough.” Hoisting myself onto the counter I give some thought to the fact that I haven’t felt the need to take one.  “Hey, where’s Junnie?”

Youngjae shrugs, and turns around to lean against the counter.

“When do you find out about the play?”

She shrugs again, her eyes downcast and shoulders slightly slumped. “The end of the week, I guess,” she says quietly.

“Do you need any help...or anything?”

Youngjae looks over at me slowly, “What would be able to help me with?”

My eyes prick entirely too easy for my liking. “Never mind.”

Three light knocks are followed by two rushed thuds at the door catch our attention. Junhong slips inside the restroom quietly locking the door behind her. Her powder pink butterfly dress matches her skin tone perfectly. Her light and fresh presence gives the dim girl-cave a burst of good vibes.

"There's my pretty princess. How are you this morning?" I smile at her.

"Psh pretty princess.” Youngjae rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. “Weren't you saying the other day you would never want a kid like her?"

Junhong gives me a small glance before shutting herself inside the corner stall.

I glare at Youngjae and shake my head. "Why are you being such a bitch?"

I don't expect her to answer so I grab my bag and leave.

 

I wonder if standing in front of the microwave really fries your brain. I heard it was a myth, but you can never believe anything you hear. If my brain is being fried, oh well. Only a few more seconds before the popcorn is done.

Grabbing a handful of popcorn I settle on my bed and pass Junnie the bag. I would have invited Youngjae over to watch movies with us, but...

Well.

I didn’t want to. That’s the only reason I’ve got. I'm sure she doesn’t care anyway. Besides she’s the last person I’d want to accidentally see the GED workbook I hid under my bed. Youngjae will have to stay far away from my house until my course is complete. I haven’t even told my mom or my sisters about it. I don’t need anyone tearing me down anymore than I have already torn myself. Even when someone has something positive to say about me it still feels negative.

I ask Junnie to lock my door while I pack weed into my Hello Kitty bowl. My mom shouldn’t be home for a couple hours so we have time to get a decent buzz.

We pass the lighter and pink bowl back and forth quietly until we’re left with residue. Junhong’s eyes are glued to the tv while I on the other hand can focus on the nothing put the pain in my abdomen. I groan loudly and curl up into a ball pulling blankets up to my chin.

“Cramps?”

I moan and rub my stomach. "It's all eves fault. Fuck that bitch."

“Yeah.” Junnie laughs. “Fuck that bitch.”

“You’re high Junnie,” I say reaching out to pull her down with me and pat her head. “You’re high.” She laughs again situating herself on her back so that she can still see the tv.   

“Hey Jun, you like me best, right?” I ask wrapping an arm around her waist.

She keeps her eyes on the screen probably not even mildly concerned with what I’m asking her. “Best in terms of what?”

“Friendship, I guess.”

“Sure.”

I know she has a ton going on. I'll let her be vague. For now. “Hey, so do you know what's been up with Youngjae? How come she's been so on edge lately?”

“I dunno,” Junhong shrugs. “Probably out of her comfort zone with the play and all.”

I hum and run my fingers through her hair. “She can sing you know.”

“Hmm I guess. I haven’t really heard her.”

It’s times like these when I wonder if I really have friends. If people care about what I’m saying or feeling. Do I have friends and lovers or just associates and fuck buddies? “Yeah she can,” I whisper, closing my eyes.

 

 

Youngjae's neighbor, Zitao has about two friends I guess. Maybe. Anyway because of that and his inability to land bitches, we were invited to his birthday party. I'm only going for the weed.

Old Man Xing never disappoints. Among black balloons and streamers taped to the wall and party favors on the table lies a gas mask bong. “Ho-ly shit." I grin, picking it up carefully. Youngjae snatches the mask from me putting it over her head. I yank it back, “Me first, bitch.”

Honestly it’s my kind of party. Pizza, drugs, and I guess boys. I think the girly looking kid turning slightly green is called Luhan. He looks the type that would do whatever you say. I wonder what'd it take to get him to suck his bff’s dick for the special occasion. The other one, Minseok, he looks a bit tougher to persuade. With his braces and spiked hair, he probably thinks of himself as a rebel. Maybe I’d believe it if it weren’t for the five hundred shitty bracelets on his harms. 

“This ain’t so bad.” I lean over and nudge Youngjae’s arm. She looks between herself, Junnie and I and the three boys sitting on the sofa opposite us. We haven’t uttered more than a couple of words across the table and the bowls of chips are still full. Youngjae rolls her eyes. “Maybe we should turn on some music.” I stand up, but Youngjae stops me.

“What?”

“Don’t. Just chill and smoke.”

“What the hell, this is supposed to be a party.”  

“The Old Man doesn’t like a lot of noise, just relax. We’ll have some fucking cake in a few and leave.”

“Oh come on.” I laugh and sit back down. Old Man Yixing passed out thirty minutes ago in his recliner. “It’s pretty rude that we came empty handed, ya know. Let’s give the birthday boy a gift.” I wiggle my eyebrows and elbow her. “Come on me and you.” I send Zitao a wink and the corner of his lip twitches.

Youngjae frowns, pulling her arm away from me. “He looks like a zombie.” He is a little pale and black around the eyes. I don’t think I’ve seen him blink since we arrived, but whatever. I get up to sit next to him anyway. Minseok gets up and stalks over to the other couch. I side eye him and take his spot next to Zitao.

“Hi,” I smile and rest my hand on his thigh.

“Hi,” he replies shortly. He peeks at me from under his bangs and cracks a small smile. “I like your black hair, it’s pretty.”

“You think so?” I grin, bringing my hair over my shoulder to stroke it. “It’s Midnight Black.”

“I’d like to braid it,” he whispers running his fingers over a few strands. “And wrap it around your neck.”

I can’t help but double over in laughter, “Wow you’re creepy, but I like it. What the freakiest thing you’ve ever done?” I turn my body toward him not caring about the complaint I get from the girly one behind me.

“I roleplay a lot. On webcam.” 

“Oooh, that sounds hot.” I nearly chuckle.

He turns his head stiffly as if it hurts to face me. “Will you play dead?”

I laugh again. I like this kid. “Fuck it, why not?”  
  


 

All the townhouses in Youngjae’s complex are built the same so it feels like I’m in some kind of alternative universe where Youngjae’s room is dark and filled with video games. The cum stains on Zitao’s sheets make me stifle a laugh because I know for sure he’s a chronic masturbator. We’ll see how long he can last. The girls went back to Jae’s house and I told them I was heading home. Well I was, but I couldn’t resist giving the birthday boy a gift.

I push Zitao down on his bed and ask him if he can get hard for me. The horror on his face makes me laugh so hard. Pulling his shirt over his head I tell him to do the same. His hands are trembling so much I have to help him. Guiding him up my stomach and over my boobs I let his hands rest there. He swallows almost audibly. 

“Wanna touch em?” I ask. He nods and I chuckle unclasping my bra. Pulling the fabric away, his warm hands come into contact with my nipples. I moan softly, “Lick them.”

He licks his lips and nods. “Okay.”

I walk closer to allow his hot mouth to hover over my sensitive skin. His tongue is rough and oddly experienced. So much so that I unbutton my shorts on automatic, letting them fall to the floor as I lower myself into his lap. My hands find his chin and I bring his lips to mine. The kisses are short with light slips of tongue. I rock back and forth on his lap pressing my hips down harder each time until he’s panting and lift his hips. 

“Are you ready to fuck me?” I whisper in his ear.

“Yes,” he breathes.

Grinning, I slide off his lap and unzip his skintight jeans. Getting his dick out is a struggle. I don’t even understand how he can be hard in these pants without crying. I have him lift up and help me get them off. Crawling over a trembling virgin is one of my favorite feelings. I grab the base of his dick and hover over it. His chest is rising and falling so rapidly I can tell he won’t last more than a minute. I chuckle, sliding the tip in and Youngjae’s words ring in my ears, ‘Don’t sleep with him, Himchan.’

 

There are over a hundred beautiful girls lined up in front of me. What the fuck ever made me think I could do this. I can’t measure up to them. It was Junhong’s cute face that convinced me. Why did I listen? That kid has no idea what she’s talking about. Darting out of line I find the nearest bathroom as fast as my heels can carry me.

I didn’t think a casting call would be so anxiety inducing. I hadn’t even made it inside the building before I felt like I was about to pass out. I’ve texted Junhong a hundred times asking her whereabouts. Why the fuck would she let me come downtown by myself for some shit like this? I’ve walked three blocks and still haven’t found a restroom. My knees are knocking together and my hair is beginning to stick to my sweaty face. 

There’s a gas station up the street and I’m lucky enough that it has a bathroom around back. I buy the largest bottle of water they have and lock myself inside. It seems like a good idea to close my eyes and take a few calming breaths. That’s what my therapist would have said. I cringe at the thought of her office. Her small voice probing and digging for my darkest secrets. I squeeze my eyes shut and pull at my hair. “Relax Himchan, relax,” I repeat walking in circles. “You’re not in a bad place anymore. No one wants anything from you. You’re safe, you are in control.”

I breathe deeply and twist open my water drinking non stop until I need to breathe. I text Junhong again letting her know where I am then go over to the sink to wet my face. My makeup is ruined so I take a couple of minutes to reapply it. Shuffling around my bag for gum, I find two little clear capsules full of yellowish powder.

 

Perfect. I grab some tissue and break one open pouring the powder onto a square and wrapping it up nice and tight before putting at the back of my throat. I chug more water and chill out until Junhong finds me. 

I meet Junnie at the metro station because I’m in too much of a good mood to wait up at a dirty gas station. It’s a beautiful day and I’m beautiful and it feels good to be rolling. The second Junnie is of the train I engulf her in a hug and spin her around. 

“Himchan, what happened? Why didn’t you stay at the casting?”

“Good golly miss molly.” I laugh.

She holds me at an arms distance to get a good look at my face, “Himchan, what the hell did you take?”

“Molly. Try it,” I grin and rummage around my purse for the other capsule. “Take it,” I shove the pill into Junhong’s mouth pinching her lips closed. She hums angrily and shakes her head and I put my hand on the back of her head to hold her still. “Shh.” I press our foreheads together. “Swallow it baby,” I say gently. I want her to feel good too. She’s always frowning about how she doesn’t know who she is and wondering why Yongguk doesn’t want her. I want her to feel as good as me. Junhong deserves this.

Junhong squeezes her eyes shut and swallows before glaring back at me. Smiling, I move my hand and from her mouth and kiss her cheek. “See?” I sing and rub the back of my hand down her face.

 

We hop on the Blue Line and I cuddle Junhong into my side. Her eyes are so big and shiny. Her long, pretty legs are so thick and smooth. I rub her knee and lay my head on her shoulder. “You’re so pretty, Junnie,” I whisper and I can feel heat rush from her neck and into her cheeks. You’re fabulous. You are gorgeous.” I nip at her ear.

“Stop it.” She giggles.

“It’s true.” My lips ghost over her neck, not quite touching but just enough to make her shiver. I can’t help but run my hand over the soft skin, down her exposed chest. I find her knee again and walk my fingers up her skirt.

“Eonni stop,” she breathes. Her nails dig into my wrist, but I don’t stop. I push her hand away, continuing up her skirt. I press my palm flat against her and she lets out gasp as I start to rub her clit.

“Him- Himchan.” Her voice is light and reminds me of the powder my mom used to pat on her face when I was a kid. I grab her face with my free hand and pull her into a kiss. Her lips are baby soft. I press my own pair to hers again and again lightly nipping at her bottom lip.

Junhong whines before gripping my forearm with the strength of God and pulling away. “No, stop. Stop.”

Her big eyes aren’t shining with their usual glint of sunshine, but with actual tears. She stands up and straightens out her skirt and sweater. She opens her mouth but just looks at me, pushing past me to sit on the other side of the train.

 

Junhong didn’t speak to me the whole ride home. We changed trains and two buses and she didn’t say a word. Not even when I told her to text me when she got home safe. I bum a cigarette off my sister and head over to my bedroom window to call Youngjae.

After the fifth ring I start to hang up until I hear her voice. I put the phone back to my ear and blow smoke out of the window. “Youngjae-”

“Junhong made it home safe.”

“Damn what’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing, that’s what you’re calling for right?”

I sigh and scratch my forehead, “What’d she tell you?”

“That you’d call and ask if she got home.”

“Hmm.” I take another drag Youngjae sighs. “Well I guess I’ll let you go.”

“Alright.” 

I can’t hear anything in her background. I wonder what she’s up to. “So now you’re not talking to me?”

“Why’d you sleep with him?” Youngjae bursts. “I told you not to, but you just can’t keep your goddamn legs closed, can you?”

Fuck. The last thing I want to talk about is Zitao. “Screw you, I’ll open my legs for whomever I damn well please because they are my fucking legs.”

“You are going to break that kid’s heart. You know he is going to get clingy, he’s never had pussy before.”

“So what? I’ve taken a lot of guys virginity.”

“Not all of them live next door to me!”

“Oh so now you’re the neighborhood watch or something? The fuck do you care so much?”

“Whatever Himchan. Call me when you've grown up.”

“Yeah maybe around that time you’ll stop being a bitch.” I hit end and toss my phone across the room.

 

 

My head has been buried in GED books for days. I’m too angry to call Youngjae and too afraid to call Junhong. But apparently I’m desperate enough to hang out at the bus stop Jongup waits at after bible study. It’s nearing 6 o' clock and I’m beginning to think I missed him. I not even sure why I’m here anyway. I don’t know what I’m expecting. All I know is I like how he makes me feel.

I look down the street toward Valley Brook to find the sidewalk deserted. He’s probably not coming. It’s getting chillier and the grey sky is darkening. Oh well, at least I got to get some fresh air. Stretch my legs a little. Maybe it’s true, I don’t have any friends. I fish my headphones from my bag and plug them into my phone. A bus pulls up, I shake my head at the driver, I’m not going anywhere soon.

Closing my eyes, I let the music take over my mind. The volume is almost loud enough to block out my thoughts. 

I feel someone sit next to me so I sit up and open my eyes.

My smiling angel. I knew he’d come. I stop my music and smile at him.

“It’s probably not a good idea to sit at the bus stop with your eyes closed,” he says. I haven’t heard his voice in so long. It’s almost like hearing it for the first time again.

“Hi, Jongup.”

“Hi, Himchan.”

“How are you today?” he asks softly, sincerely.

“I’m alright.” I shrug.

“You look down.”

I busy myself with my phone so I don’t have to look at him. “I’m always down.”

“That’s not true. I’ve seen you happy lot’s of times.” I smile a little because I can count on my hands how many times I’ve seen Jongup. It hasn’t been a lot. Then I frown because if he’s seen me more times than I’ve seen him it’s most likely bad.

“I’m not sure if I’ve become happier or more comfortable in my sadness. My friends look at me and say ‘you’re not depressed,’ but they don’t know anything. No one knows anything, but what I allow them to know.” I can’t wrap my head around why I’m saying these things to Jongup. But they are easier to say to him than anyone else.

“You, depressed?” he lifts his eyebrows, “But you’re always so-”

“Happy, I know.” I nod. 

“I was going to say hopeful. Most people who are depressed are always saying negative things, but you seem to glow with hopefulness. There’s hope for you, in you.”

“You don’t mind if I smoke, do you?” I ask taking a pack of cigarettes out of my bag, beating the bottom of the carton. Jongup shakes his head, so I light up. I turn my head away from him each time I need to blow smoke. I’d hate to insult him. “So Jongup Moon thinks there’s hope for me.”

“I do.” He says. 

I can’t help but chuckle lightly at his naivety. “I want to believe you.”

"Then believe me."

I hum at his words. I'd like to believe Jongup, but I can't. I wish I could see the world however it is that he sees it. He seems to perceive things a bit gentler than the people I know. He says things like he knows them to be true without doubt. How? I don't know much, if anything. I know I’m pretty, but I wish I was one of those girls that are beautiful on the inside.  
  
Whatever. I guess the grass is always greener on whatever side you aren’t on.

 

 

 

* * *


End file.
